


The Art of Falling

by Katbelle



Series: in time of test [2]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Animal Abuse, Animal Death, Brother-Sister Relationships, Disabled Character, Emotional Baggage, F/M, Family Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Little Sisters, M/M, Multi, Original Character(s), Post-Movie(s), Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-15
Updated: 2012-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-31 06:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katbelle/pseuds/Katbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things happen, as they tend to do. One person makes a decision that impacts everyone. It turns out that when Ruth Elisabeth Phillips (born Ruth Lehnsherr, not Ruth Kinross yet) is not there, everything is falling apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Falling

**The Art of Falling**

_year one_

Jane Grover puts a trembling hand on her son's shoulder and tries to smile. The boy smiles back, more with his brown eyes than actual facial muscles, and seems undisturbed by the possibility of spending the next unknown number of years an ocean away from his parents. 

"My husband's aunt had a cat," Mrs. Grover says quietly and runs a hand through Ricky's black hair. "A silly creature, old, sick and terribly fat. But Richard loved it."

Charles leans back in his chair. From Jane Grover's nervous rambling he more or less gathers the scope of boy's powers - all the _possibilities_ that come with them - but this, this sounds important.

"The last time we visited Swansea," Mrs. Grover continues with her tale and with stroking the short hair on her son's nape, "Ricky cuddled the cat. After he stopped, the cat took few steps and collapsed."

Richard's face falls, he sniffs and his mother immediately gathers him and holds close. Charles' mother never behaved like that, not even after Charles' father died. And yet here Jane Grover is, comforting her older child over the death of a _pet_. 

"That's when we got scared," Timothy Grover offers while his wife is busy hugging their son. "Before it was only a minor scratch here and there, but then--" He runs a hand over his face. "The vet was shocked. He said that the cat died because it was _too healthy_. That its heart gave out. Ruthie warned us--" He trails off and risks a glance at his wife. Charles takes a moment to look at the man's surface thoughts and it's Ruth, Ruth on his wedding day, Ruth at school, Ruth with Jane, Ruth with Richard, Ruth everywhere. All fond memories. "Ruthie told us it might be dangerous. Uncontrollable, at least at first. But she also told us that you're the best."

And she did, she sat down with them and told her friends who she was and who their son was, and it took them months to be able to speak to her again, but they did. Another point for the human race and their infinite capability to adapt. Erik-- Erik, well. Saying that he dismisses them all is not true anymore.

"I would be happy to welcome your son in the school," Charles smiles and hopes that it's as charming as he thinks it is. After all, those are Ruth's friends, Ruth's oldest friends, and her godson. And Ruth stood up for him, sided with him against all logic and expectations, and trusted him to be the best. He'll be the best. He owes her much more than that.

***

"Did you ask them?"

That's the only thing Erik says to him that evening, after the Grovers have left and Richard settled in his new room. 

Charles didn't ask. There was no point.

"They didn't know anything."

 

_year two_

Richard accidentally kills Ororo's rabbit and vows to never use his powers again. The problem does not lie with his control over them - on the contrary, his control over them is perfect. After all, during the past eleven months he managed not to cause spontaneous aneurysms in everyone he touched. His problem is the lack of belief in himself, lack of self-confidence. Charles, no matter how much and how hard he tries, cannot help him with that.

It's not a surprise when the boys turns to Erik and chooses him as his preferred mentor.

"You can't just control your power," Erik tells him one day. They're sitting in Hank's lab, surrounded with cages full of Hank's rats which they're using as their own test subjects. Erik stabs them with a thick needle and moves them over to Ricky, who's supposed to heal them. So far one was healed, two died of a heart attack (that might have actually been Erik-induced) and one exploded. All of it is sickening. "You have to _understand_ it."

"Yeah, but how?!" Ricky pokes a rat with his finger. The tiny animal squeaks, jumps a few inches and starts running in circles inside the cage before taking a final breath and collapsing.

"You have to be able to feel it, to feel the flow of it." Erik runs a hand over his face. "You control it, but you can't _center_ it on the injury that matters. I don't know how to explain it."

"Then don't explain it, just _teach me_."

Erik laughs humourlessly. That's exactly why he didn't want to be a part of this ridiculous school. He's not a teacher material. But his name on the plate by the front gate of the mansion doesn't let him abandon the duties.

"I can't," he says. "It takes a lot of time, but it's something you have to figure out on your own."

***

"Should I wish you an un-happy today?"

Joseph joins him in the gardens, by the balustrade that faces the lake and the giant satellite dish far on the horizon. Erik raises his brows and offers Joe a cigarette. Joe takes it and doesn't flinch when a metal lightener floats right in front of his nose. He lights the cigarette and inhales deeply.

"You're a widower," he clarifies finally. "It's another year today, should we cry together?"

"You're a bastard."

Joseph puffs the smoke out in neat circles.

"You deserve it."

"Yeah, I deserve it." Erik takes out another cigarette, but doesn't light it, just rolls it between his fingers. "Why are you here, Joe?"

"Don't tell me it took you more than a year to notice that Charles _employed me_ here." A vein throbs on Erik's temple and Joseph takes it as a signal to step messing around and to get to the point. "It's such a lovely day _today_ , Erik, so I'm doing exactly what Charles is doing. Contemplating my miserable life."

Erik turns his head and looks back at the impressive mansion behind him. The curtains of the master study are closed, and so are those of Charles' bedroom.

"You think he's miserable?"

"And you don't?" Joseph drops the unfinished cig onto the ground and steps on it. He wipes the inside of his palm on his trousers and puts his elbow on the balustrade, leans on it. "You fucked up, Erik. Big time."

"I know."

Joe squints and cocks his head to the side, glares at Erik, then shakes his head.

"No, I don't think you do. You lied. You fucked up and it got me shot, Gordon handicapped for the rest of his life, it turned your _sister_ into a cold-blooded _murderer_ , and Charles--"

"Thank you for your input, Joseph," Erik grits out. Joseph gives him a leveled look.

"--and I'm not even going to start on what it got Charles into. So yes, I think he's pretty miserable and it's not surprising that he's using today as the opportunity to re-evaluate his life."

Erik hides the unlit cigarette in his pocket, turns to face the mansion and sinks onto the grass, sits down with his back propped up by the balustrade. Joseph looks down on him.

"He's probably wondering where he'd be if he'd never met you. He'd probably be teaching at Oxford alongside my father, or maybe back in the States. He would have gotten married by now--"

"To Moira," Erik interrupts. Joe frowns. "Old CIA... friend."

"Not the type," Joseph decides. "More likely he'd married that Emma woman. _She_ is the type. Classy, posh, comes from old money. They would have had a child by now. He wouldn't have been happy, but then again," Joseph sits down next to Erik, cross-legged, "how is that any different from what he is now?"

"I do... love him."

"He knows that. That's not the problem." Joseph puts his elbows on his knees and rests his chin on the folded hands, the picture of a philosopher. "The problem is whether it's _enough_."

 

_year three_

In the end, there is the Westchester wedding that Charles wanted to organize so much.

"When did _that_ happen?" Erik asks the newlywed Mrs. Summers.

"When you were too busy with your own drama to notice," Raven replies.

***

"So it's the matter of precision," Ricky notes as he pets the white rabbit and the cut on its leg heals. "It is to be honed by practice, practice and more practice."

"Yes," Erik replies as he takes the rabbit back from the boy. He reaches for the knife with his powers and makes a cut on the animal's side, not deep enough to be lethal, but enough to be visible. He hands the animal back.

After two years, it stopped having an impact on him.

"Don't you think it's time we moved to bigger animals?" Ricky asks and strokes the underside of the rabbit's chin. He doesn't even have to touch the injured place anymore. He's marvelous, Erik thinks. "Last week Alex took me to North Salem to get stuff for Sammy and I've seen a limping dog. Maybe we could try...?"

"Not yet. Don't you remember what happened last week?" Last week Ricky overdid it. Instead of healing a cut, he healed some sort of a blood condition and another rabbit ended up bleeding out all over Hank's lab. Hank wasn't amused. Ruth would have known what exactly was wrong with the rabbit. "More practice, Richard. Your balance between raw power and finesse has to be _perfect_."

That point between rage and serenity.

Ricky makes a face, but obediently hands the again healthy rabbit back.

***

" _I got a postcard from Johannesburg_ ," Gordon says over the phone. " _She says that she's fine and we shouldn't worry, that she'll be back_."

One day, he doesn't add.

" _Erik?_ "

Erik doesn't answer. He hangs up and goes back to his room, takes out a backpack and starts packing. A few turtlenecks, his passport, a photo taken years ago on a Christmas afternoon on Gordon's old couch, money, a small gold ring without a chainlet.

"Erik?"

He doesn't turn back to look at Charles and he doesn't stop packing. Projected distress and panic flood him and it shouldn't be soothing, shouldn't make him feel better but it does.

"Gordon called," he explains briefly as he reaches out to the bedside table, opens one of the drawers and takes out a folded paper. And old picture, of a student on a pier. He thumbs one edge of the photo before burying it deep in the backpack. "She's in South Africa."

"So you're leaving."

"She's my sister, Charles."

"Of course," Charles says wistfully as if Erik answered more than one question for him.

***

He tracks her all over the globe, from South Africa to Libya to Jugoslavia to China to Mexico. It's not easy at first - after more than seven years of domesticity his skills are rusty - but hunting is like riding a bike; once you've learnt it, you can never forget.

 

_year four_

The trail goes cold in Cambodia, but he doesn't give up.

***

New year sees new children arrive at the school and several of the graduates depart it. Not so little anymore Alisa Tager reluctantly accepts Charles' offer of help and moves to Massachusetts, closer to Emma Frost than to Charles, to study art history at Harvard. Ororo takes a year off to go to Africa, to visit Cairo and Kenya - places of old family history - but promises to be back.

Charles wants to believe that promise, he really does.

It's sad to watch them go, all his oldest students, kids he came to think of as his own. But he knows that he can't keep them forever, that they were never truly his and were never meant to stay.

"I miss Mister Lehnsherr," Richard Grover says unexpectedly during the dinner.

From all the kids, Ororo and Alisa were the closest to Erik, but it was Richard who was most affected by Erik leaving. The girls lost a father-figure, but were old enough - two lovely young ladies, not children anymore - not to be bothered much. Richard, Richard lost a most beloved and trusted mentor, someone whose legacy he might have wanted to carry on one day.

"I know," Charles says. He's not sure if "so do I" is even true anymore.

***

"Hello?"

Long silence, interrupted only by the sound of breathing on the other side of the connection. And then,

" _How is he?_ "

"Come back if you want to know."

***

Raven slams the receiver down angrily and overcomes the urge to kick something with deep, calming breaths. He feels Alex put his hands on her shoulders and start massaging. Gradually, she relaxes.

"Are you ever going to tell Charles that Erik phones every single week?"

"No," she replies and covers his hands with hers. They stand in the hallway, pressed close together, just touching, for a few minutes before she remembers all the vice-headmistress things she has to do and Alex remembers Samantha, sleeping in her cot.

"Good."

They hold hands as they go upstairs.

***

On Sunday, in the middle of the market in some tiny town in Sri Lanka, Erik realizes he has no idea what to do next.

***

Gordon is not overly surprised when he opens the door. He just sighs and invites Erik in, sits him on the old couch and limps to the kitchen to prepare tea. He comes back with a steaming mug that he hands Erik, and settles in an armchair opposite his guest. Erik drinks the tea with little sips, tries to buy himself some time before the inevitable conversation happens.

"You shouldn't have gone after her," Gordon finally says.

"You told me she was in South Africa."

"No, boy. I told you that I got a postcard from Johannesburg. It doesn't mean that she was actually _staying_ there."

Erik smiles darkly and his eyes stay dead cold.

"She was."

Gordon waves his hand dismissively.

"Not the point, kid." He leans back in the armchair. "If Ruthie doesn't want to be found, she won't be, Nazi hunter or not."

The caricature of a smile disappears and Erik puts the mug down on the wooden floor of Gordon's tiny house in Derbyshire, and finally looks at his host.

"You're... you're her father," he says slowly and Gordon's kind brown eyes twinkle at that. "Tell me what should I do."

"Let her be," Gordon answers immediately. "Your passive-aggressiveness is not going to make her miraculously appear on my doorstep, kid. Give her all the time she needs."

"But--"

" _All the time she needs_ ," Gordon repeats. Erik's finger trails the edge of the mug. "Go home, kid. I swear, I'll go _bald_ because of you and Joe. And the rest of you crazy lot."

Erik's fingers halts, and Erik's whole hand drops. He lowers his head so that Gordon is left staring at his brownish hair.

"Are we bad people, Gordon?"

" _No_ ," Gordon states firmly. "Hey. Erik, look at me." Erik does, reluctantly. "You are not bad people. _You_ are not a bad person. Tragically messed up beyond reason, with so many flaws that I don't know where to begin listing them, _yes_. But ultimately, you are not a bad person. Not when it counts." Gordon reaches out and ruffles Erik's hair. Erik doesn't try to get him to stop. "Really. Go _home_ , Erik."

"Can I-- Can I stay here for a while?"

Gordon's brows end up near his hairline.

"Of course. Of course you can stay."

***

"Professor Xavier?"

Charles lowers the book he was reading and smiles at Richard. The boy takes it as an invitation and walks into the study, passes the chair standing in front of Charles' desk and stops only directly in front of Charles. Charles maneuvers the wheelchair so that he and the boy are more or less face-to-face.

"Did something happen, Ricky?"

"Yes," the boy replies. "No. I don't know yet."

"May I...?" Charles wiggles his fingers. Richard shakes his head "no" and Charles drops his hand. He will never read a student's mind, not without a legitimate reason. 

Ricky reaches for his hand.

"Can I show you something?" he asks as he wraps his fingers around Charles'. Charles nods and Richard squeezes.

Nothing happens. Charles frowns and looks at Richard's face - concentrated but accomplished and happy - then, concerned, at Richard's surface thoughts - happiness tangled with affection and satisfaction and pride.

"What did you want to show me?"

Richard grins.

"Something that will make Mister Lehnsherr proud when he comes back."

He pats Charles on the knee and leaves the study.

***

She's waiting for him in the hallway, with her hands on her hips and red hair in disarray. The moment he steps over the threshold of the mansion, she goes up to him and slaps him, hard.

"I deserved that."

"You think?" Raven asks and then also punches him, for good measure. "You've been gone for almost a year. A _year_ , Erik."

"I know, Raven."

"Did you find what you were looking for?" she asks even though the distinctive lack of Ruth's voice already answers her question.

"No."

"So it was basically for nothing." She folds hand across her chest and leans towards him. "You're a dear friend of mine, Erik, but if you hurt my brother _again_ , in any way, I will personally display your intestines on a stick."

"Understood."

She watches his back until the moment he disappears upstairs, en route to his old bedroom.

***

He slips into the master bedroom long after midnight. Alex and Raven are in their rooms, tired parents of a little girl, the kids are sleeping and Hank is busy down in his lab. Erik walks into Sean on the corridor, but the ginger boy - man, more like it - only rolls his eyes and wishes him good luck. It amazes him, Sean's capacity for forgiveness and instant understanding.

It's quiet in the bedroom, but it's also obvious that Charles is not sleeping. Even after so many months away, Erik still know all the breathing patterns of a sleeping Charles.

"It's April," he hears himself say.

"I know," comes the reply and Erik moves closer to the bed.

"And it's been ten years."

"What?"

Erik sits down on his - empty - side of the bed, with his back to Charles. One step at a time, Gordon always says.

"Ten years ago you jumped into the ocean and told me that I wasn't alone. We met ten years ago."

Charles chuckles.

"So long ago."

Erik turns a little and extends his hand, tentatively touches the bare skin of Charles' forearm. Charles doesn't move the hand away.

"You're not alone either."

"Am I not?"

"No," Erik whispers.

Charles looks at him. There's something different about him, but Erik can't quite place the change.

"I can't promise you that I'll never leave you again," Erik continues after a moment of silence. "You know me, Charles, you know me better than anyone and you know me better than that. I don't give empty promises."

"That much is certain about you, my friend."

"I can't promise you I'll never leave you again," Erik repeats, "but I can promise you that I will always come back to you."

"It's not enough, Erik."

Erik closes his eyes and inhales deeply.

"I know."

He feels Charles stroke the back of his hand with his thumb.

"But we can start with that."

**Author's Note:**

> Happy post-Valentine's Day! Part 3 in the "in time of test" series that sees Erik, Charles, Joseph and Gordon deal with Ruth's disappearing act and introduces Richard Jonathan Grover! I hope you enjoyed it and that it got you curious about whatever happened between "Family of Blood" and now. If you are, look out for **"For Every Action"** , part 2 in the series that creates this fall-out situation!


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